Shortly after, the bell signaling the beginning of the next class rang out, jolting Lyrian from his musings. With brisk determination, he made a beeline for the academy's bustling canteen. Despite having nibbled on some meat jerky earlier that morning, his stomach growled in protest, demanding a more substantial meal to quell its persistent grumbling.
Israthel, the rude classmate who hadn't given him much trouble during the first period, continued to maintain his distance. Nevertheless, his piercing gaze bore into Lyrian's back as he walked away. Draco, on the other hand, couldn't resist an opportunity to gloat, sending a sly smirk in Lyrian's direction as he sauntered past. Lyrian averted his gaze, his thoughts swirling with irritation.
I lost to him in a game... but it wouldn't be that way in real life,' he thought to himself, the promise of future victories fueling his resolve to excel in Battle Forge.
